


Ties That Bind

by imperfectandchaotic



Series: Midnight Mettle [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Kurt at Dalton fic, M/M, all these fics are so angsty I'm so sorry, post Furt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectandchaotic/pseuds/imperfectandchaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not once does Kurt get called Lady Boy. Although if he has to admit it, Porcelain had been starting to grow on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties That Bind

_i._

Finn doesn't accompany them to say goodbye. Kurt tries not to let it get to him. He understands—understands that he and Finn have just barely cemented themselves as friends, let alone  _brothers,_  and a blow like Kurt leaving New Directions is going to be sore for a while. Most of the rest of the gang has sent texts and short emails, but the words are hollow and Kurt finds himself thinking that they shouldn't have bothered. Mercedes didn't.

Still, when he looks back at the Hummel house that's slowly dissolving into the surrounding darkness, Kurt wipes the back of his hand across his eyes and swallows the lump in throat.

He still wishes that Finn would have come anyway.

_ii._

Blaine is waiting at Dalton Academy's front door when they finally arrive. Kurt wonders what he thought of the message. A strange, prickling shame rises up the back of his neck.

_I can't do it anymore. I'm transferring. Tonight._

Kurt can tell Carole and possibly his father are impressed by the sheer size of the school, let alone its immaculate landscape and breathtaking architecture, visible even in the faint light the building emits. He also knows that Burt would be happy with him living in a tiny, boring room and being okay. Kurt repeats  _zero tolerance harassment policy_ like a mantra inside his head, before the thought is shoved violently aside by the realization that  _Blaine is about to meet his father._

A great comprehension of two entire languages and no curse word is encompassing enough. Damn.

"Can I help you with those Mr Hummel?" asks Blaine, rising from his post on a gorgeous wooden bench next to the entrance. The seamless movement makes Kurt swallow. Words are stuck roughly inside his throat. Blaine reaches out a hand, taking a bag from Burt and shaking the man's hand with his free one. "I'm Blaine."

Kurt's father looks from the boy in Dalton uniform to his son, who manages a single, weak nod. Yes,  _that_  Blaine. "Nice to meet you, Blaine. Call me Burt. This is my wife, Carol."

"It's a pleasure."

If Carol is taken aback by Blaine's manners, it doesn't cross her face nor break her smile. "It's a pleasure for me too."

"I can take Kurt to his dorm, if you and Burt would like to go to the office and make sure everything's okay with his transfer," Blaine offers, adjusting the duffel bag in his grip. Burt looks once again at Kurt, who nods a second time, hoping to look reassuring. Regardless of whether it works, his father reaches out and hugs him tightly, whispering  _I love you, kid_. Carol takes her turn hugging Kurt. Her eyes are wet. And then Burt takes his stepmother by the hand and they walk into the school alone.

Kurt watches them leave, starting when Blaine's hand finds his shoulder. He turns to the elder boy, whose eyes are alight with such kindness and understanding that it makes Kurt wants to burst into tears.

"C'mon," he says softly, squeezing Kurt's thin shoulder lightly. "It's freezing out."

They walk the entire way in silence.

_iii._

Kurt's first night at Dalton is to be spent alone in a single dorm, as is Dalton's custom.

"One night to get the idea, the next to meet your roommate. We don't want to overload you with everything all at once," Blaine explains. "I know Eric though. Nice guy."

The younger boy nods sort of numbly. Blaine opens the door to a small, plain room. There is a bed, a dresser, a closet, a desk, and chair, and nothing else. The yearning for his own room's bright, rich colour and texture is so sudden and sharp that Kurt has to press his lips together to keep anything at all from coming out. He smiles weakly at Blaine—they both know it—and thanks him. He can take it from here.

He can tell that Blaine wants to say something more, do something perhaps. But Kurt can also tell how very very fragile his emotional control is right now. Maybe Blaine can see it too, because after a pause all he says is "Goodnight, Kurt. Call if you need anything, okay? I mean it."

Another mechanical nod.

Kurt's first half of his first night at Dalton is spent crying himself to sleep.

_iv._

He wakes up in a cold sweat with unfamiliar sheets twisted around him. There are no red digits depicting the time. The door is not where it's supposed to be. For a tense thirty seconds, Kurt thinks he's having a panic attack. But by then his eyes have adjusted better to the dark and his mind has caught up to the rest of him. He's at Dalton. It's his first night.

It sucks right now.

Forcing deep breaths, Kurt puts a hand over his heart until the rhythm returns to something vaguely resembling normal. He doesn't realize he's still crying until tears smack the hand still clutching at his t shirt. And then Kurt reaches for his phone.

He doesn't even have to say anything.

" _Don't move okay? I'll be right there."_

When David and Blaine knock on the door ten minutes later, Kurt tries to pull himself together. He wipes the tears from his face as best as he can and keeps doing that deep breathing thing that's supposed to work. It's so not working. And it doesn't matter anyway. The second he opens the door, Blaine takes one look at him before their bodies collide. The sound is like a thunderclap. At least, that's what it feels like the sound should be.

Kurt is sobbing, harder than he has in a long, long time, gripping the back of Blaine's cotton shirt and lamenting only briefly about the tear stains. Blaine's one hand rubs soothing circles on his back. His calloused fingers of the other thread in Kurt's hair, not that Kurt has the energy or want to be indignant about it. The back of Kurt's knees knock against the bed—has he mentioned how  _small_ this room is?—and his legs crumple. Luckily the mattress and Blaine are there to catch him. Blaine's voice is soft and comforting and feather light in Kurt's ear.

"Hey Kurt," he mummers sometime later after the shaking has abated somewhat. "Do you want to sleep in our room tonight? David will switch with you."

The crushing pain of being alone overrides everything else. Kurt is only dimly aware of David's lanky form, half visible through the just open door. He's standing outside with at least the one hand in his pocket. Guilt twists inside his chest. It's freezing.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice frail and wavering. David's head appears inside the room.

"Positive," the other boy half-whispers, smiling crookedly in way that Kurt can still just barely make out. "Now go on before I shove you both out. I can't feel my toes."

And like things usually happen involving Blaine, Kurt is too stunned to argue.

_v._

It takes about three seconds for the two of them to realize exactly how cold it is. Kurt and Blaine exchange glances, and in the space of a heartbeat Blaine's grabbed his hand and they've started to run across snow sprinkled grass and twisting stone paths. They're moving so quickly that Kurt doesn't even have time to flinch. There isn't a beautifully structured high ceiling to give them cover, so by the time they make it to Blaine and David's dorm the only extremity Kurt can feel is the one connected to Blaine.

"Welcome," says Blaine in whisper, mindful of the rows of doors in the hall with other sleeping boys behind them. He releases Kurt to rub his hands together. "to Chateau à la Blavid." Kurt's lips twitch as the door swings open to reveal Blaine and David's dorm room.

He's not exactly sure what he was expecting, but it's not what he sees. Both beds are equally messy, and a Dalton tie dangles precariously on the back of a desk chair. One wall features a Harry Potter poster depicting a flaming Hogwarts, a whiteboard calendar, and a bulletin board. Kurt presumes the bed beneath it to be Blaine's. The other wall is similarly decorated, but instead of the poster there is a digital photo frame, sliding from photo to photo of David and a beautiful girl.

The wall facing the door isn't even visible until Kurt's eyes hit the two adjoining desks below. It's covered in photos. Photos that clamour for space, all featuring bright smiling faces and beautiful scenery that the boy imagines to be Dalton's campus. He sees Blaine, David, and Wes all over the wall; in dorms, in what look like clubs, standing in what might be the most incredible auditorium Kurt can imagine a school having.

Kurt's heart swells with something—something like jealousy and longing and homesickness all rolled into one. Nearly breathless with this undefinable feeling, he turns to find Blaine, standing in his room and actually resembling the three a.m photo Kurt received that night not so long ago. The elder boy smiles tentatively, quirking one corner of his mouth.

"Take my bed," he says, pointing at the Harry Potter side of the wall. "David's weird about his sheets, so I figured I'd save you from that."

"Thanks," Kurt gets out, crossing over. But before he can get there Blaine reaches out and puts a hand on his arm.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad you're here." There is a sense of urgency in Blaine's voice that makes Kurt's heart beat a little faster. "But I know you didn't just decide on a whim, so when or if you ever want to talk about it, know you can talk to me, okay?"

Too tired with the constant spinning of his mental state, the younger boy just nods. Blaine's eyes keep his for another few moments before he lets go. Kurt pulls off his shoes and places them neatly at the foot of the bed before crawling underneath Blaine's covers and being assaulted by the delicious strength of his scent. He turns to face away from the wall, eyes widening when he catches the other boy's gaze from across the now dark room.

"Goodnight," he whispers, trying to stamp down the intensely strange feeling of intimacy. Kurt thinks he sees Blaine's mouth curve into a smile.

"Night, Kurt."

And for the first time in weeks, Kurt doesn't dream at all.

_iv._

At six thirty Wes calls to get them up and back to where they're supposed to be. The rest of the school doesn't normally rise for another hour. Kurt can only offer Blaine a weak smile before bolting out with Wes on his heels, urging him on. They arrive at Kurt's single dorm where David has already laid out a brand new Dalton uniform. Kurt just barely twitches when both boys squeeze his shoulders in parting.

"Thank you!" he calls after them, realizing a moment too late he'd just been standing there in silence with his mouth ajar. Wes and David turn, wave, and then keep running, jostling each other as they go. Forcing a deep breath, Kurt steels himself for the realization that for five days out of seven, he'll be wearing basically the exact same thing. But then, he figures, so will everyone else. Thus, even the notion of being teased for his wardrobe has been smacked down to zero.

That at least, is a comforting thought.

_v._

For the first few days, Blaine, Wes, and David stick to Kurt like the secret service New Directions had once promised him. The classes are blissfully challenging, Kurt's classmates all friendly, and not once does Kurt get called Lady Boy. Although if he has to admit it, Porcelain had been starting to grow on him.

The first day Kurt walks the halls alone is the day he's handed back his first paper with a bright  _A_ right next to his name. After his first two days Carol sends a care basket full of refills of every skin care product he's ever needed, as well as some of the most delicious cookies he's ever eaten.

One day over lunch Blaine mentions the Warblers as casually as Kurt's sure he's capable of. Kurt knows what the silent, loaded question is here. It takes another three days for him to consent to an audition, and another after that to pick a song.

Strangely enough, it's Rachel who helps him decide.

_vi._

When Eric says "There's something in our room for you," with an almost jealous smile, Kurt is expecting another basket from Carole. He is not expecting Rachel Berry. And her version of a care basket.

"Hi Kurt," she says, smiling in what looks oddly enough like a shy kind of way. Taken aback, the boy settles for lifting a hand in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, trying his best not to snap. Rachel's smile tightens around her mouth as she steps aside to reveal the large basket sitting on his bed.

"Cds and DVDs," she explains. "Every performance we've ever done. Who knew that secret mike in the choir room would come in handy so much?"

There is a long pause as Kurt tries to figure out what exactly to say. "Thank you," is what he finally settles on, even though he knows it's not enough. Rachel's soft smile brightens into something more familiar.

"You look happy," she says, almost wistfully. "I'm glad you're alright, Kurt. I don't know what I would have done."

 _I'm sure you would have been fine._ Kurt opens his mouth to say the words, but Rachel steamrolls on in typical Berry fashion. "Have you auditioned for the Warblers? They'd be stupid not to take you. Your soprano is nearly stronger than mine."

Strangely touched at the admission from Rachel Berry of all people, Kurt just shakes his head. "I don't have a song yet," he tells her. Truth be told, he's still waffling about the whole thing. Rachel purses her lips briefly.

"You should do Defying Gravity. I know you threw the Diva-Off," she continues before he can interject. "And I know it might not be the  _strongest_ showcase of all your talent, but..."

The girl reaches out and takes one of Kurt's hands in her own. He looks down at this new connection before returning his gaze to hers. Rachel's eyes are shining.

"I think you  _need_  to sing it, Kurt."

And with that Rachel leaves him, pausing only to hand over the envelope she'd been keeping inside her coat. "From Mercedes. I'll see you at Sectionals. We miss you."

"You too," he rasps, throat suddenly bone dry. Kurt flops down on his bed, staring at his best friend's large, loud script. It's hours before he finds the courage to open it.

_vii._

_Dear Kurt,_

_I know why you're there at Dalton and not here with me. I know how scared you were and I should have been there for you more than I was. So I'm sorry for that. But I want you to know that I love you, and that you're still my best friend, okay? No matter what. Blaine seems like a good guy, and I'm glad you have him in your life. You need him. Maybe more than you need me._

_I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you like crazy, or that our chances at Sectionals are less now that you're gone. Don't tell Rachel I said that, alright? I'm not quite sure why she went to see you, but I think you should know. She's the one who rallied us to stand up to Karofsky. She's the one who pushed it, who noticed what was going on with you and actually decided to do something about it._

_It should have been me. This is_ _**Rachel** _ _we're talking about: the most self-centred person possibly on the face of the planet, who knows you needed help. I'm an awful best friend, aren't I? I hope you'll forgive me one day._

_I'll see you at Sectionals. I know you'll be great._

_Love forever and fabulous hats,_

_Mercedes_

_viii._

" _Promise you won't hate me_."

"Blaine?" Kurt's more than a little concerned as he sits up in bed. It's late—later than either of them should probably be up because Sectionals are literally hours away. There's a soft knocking on the door that he thinks he imagines at first, until it happens again. Casting a wary eye across the room to a slumbering Eric, Kurt steps as lightly as he can over to the door. A part of him realizes he shouldn't be surprised at Blaine standing in the dark dorm hallway. But he is anyway.

"Promise you won't hate me," Blaine repeats.

"I could never hate you."

The honest truth slips out before Kurt has a chance to come up with a less soul-bearing reply. A nod would have worked. A relieved smile breaks across Blaine's face, making Kurt's breath catch somewhat inside his throat. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to Blaine. Especially the one who always appeared with messy hair, half-lidded eyes and plain white t shirts in the darkness of the night.

"Trust me?"

"Of course." Red flags begin waving frantically. Kurt just knows that this isn't going to go over well. Still, the instinctual desire to trust Blaine cuts down all those flags. So taking a deep breath, Kurt takes Blaine's proffered hand and lets him pull him out onto dark Dalton grounds.

_ix._

"Remember what you promised me," comes a whisper that brushes against Kurt's ear and makes a shiver spike the length of his spine. His breath catches again (like always) and getting it back is only more difficult once Kurt makes out the mass of dark shape standing in Dalton's main courtyard.

New Directions.

He wheels on Blaine, who has suddenly disappeared. His phone buzzes.

**Courage.**

He might actually hate Blaine right now.

"Kurt?" Of course it's Rachel who takes the first step forward, bundled against the cold like all the rest of them. Their breath plumes in wispy smoke before their faces. "We have to say something."

"Remember when Sam first joined Glee and Mr. Shue had us do that weird knot game?" Finn's grin is crooked in that way Kurt loved so much. He loves it still, but it's a brotherly kind of pulse that makes his heart beat now. Yes, Kurt remembers the game; the one in which they'd all held hands crossed over one another in a circle and had realign themselves in said original circle without letting go.

It took them two entire rehearsals to get it right. When they finally did, Mr. Shuester congratulated them on becoming a real team. The reminder of causing the break between them makes Kurt's eyes sting. Mercedes rushes forward then, and Kurt opens his mouth to apologize—to explain that if he'd allowed any contact during his last moments at McKinley, his resolve would have crumbled. He'd still be there now, looking constantly over his shoulder. But now Kurt lets himself be enveloped in the love of his best friend.

"We love you, Kurt," she says thickly. Kurt can't say anything. He just presses his face into her shoulder.

"You're always going to be part of our knot." It's Sam who speaks now. "You're practically the centre of it, dude."

"We'll be cheering for you at Sectionals," continues Quinn with that determined assurance Kurt always associates with her. "While still trying to destroy you, of course."

"Of course," Kurt says dryly, finding his voice at last. "I'd expect nothing less." He turns his gaze to Mercedes. "You're always going to be my best friend. Especially with fabulous hats."

Tears freeze before they can make their way down her cheeks.

Finn steps forward and claps Kurt in a hard hug. "I'm sorry, Kurt." His voice is low and husky and it makes Kurt's chest ache.

"I know."

This time, when Kurt says goodbye to New Directions it doesn't feel like his heart is collapsing inside of him.

_x._

Blaine is waiting inside the closest entrance. He watches Kurt's face carefully as the younger boy makes his way over.

"I know I shouldn't have." Blaine says in an apology that doesn't sound like one at all. He's not sorry. For a long moment Kurt just looks at him. His heart feels like it's going to burst with everything he feels for this boy standing in front of him _—_ **gratitude** angerjealousy **longing** _l_ _ove?—_ so Kurt steps forward and kisses Blaine on the cheek in what might be the most brazen thing he's ever done.

When he pulls back his face is hot, but Blaine is smiling. The older boy doesn't say anything. He just takes Kurt's hand again, leading him back into the warmth of the school and back up his dorm room. They stop in front of the door, but Kurt makes no move to open it. His heart thunders so loudly he wonders if Blaine can hear it.

"You don't have to do this," Blaine says softly. His thumb runs gentle circles in Kurt's palm. It's incredibly distracting. Kurt doesn't have to ask. He knows what they're talking about here; the fact that mere hours from now they'll be competing against his friends for something, he's sure, New Directions wants more than any of the Warblers.

"I know." A pause, in which Blaine's gentle grip becomes a comforting pressure and their fingers tangle together. "Courage, right?"

Blaine's lips curl in a slow half-smile, looking at Kurt as if he's not quite sure what to make of him.

"Right. Courage."

* * *


End file.
